Anywhere But Home
by dark-angels-who-eat-cookies
Summary: Bella is running away from Phoenix, where her life is hell. She escapes to Forks, scarred both mentally and physically after a 'loving' relationship turned abusive. Can the Cullens save her? And where is Edward? Rating may change due to content, now T
1. Airport, The Beginning

thump-thump, thump thump, thump thump **Hello! I return! Did you miss me? **

Brand new fic… is this not exciting? Don't answer that, I think it is. And that is all that matters.

Love goes to my beta, DeadForTooManyYears (you SO changed your name, you evil little being), and thankyou for the awesome dress! I LOVE IT!

**Disclaiming… NOT MINE! NOT NOW NOT EVER! BWAHAHAHAHA!**

X-x-Twilight-x-X

Bella's POV

_thump thump, thump thump, thump thump_

My heart was beating up a tango as I stood nervously in the line at customs, my legs quivering. I was screaming on the inside, sobbing for the plastic looking lady at the desk to hurry up, lest I get found, get caught and taken back. I would rather die then have that. A bead of sweat rolled down my face, and I push back my dark bangs with one hand, looking around for him. I can't see him now, but that means almost nothing. He can just creep up on you, when you think that you are alone, and if that happens you can never get away. That's why I haven't left until now. But now I'm leaving, and I'm never coming back.

The woman seemed to be taking an age, but finally she turned to me, and smiled at me with teeth that were too white to be natural, hair unnaturally blond, her facial structure unnatural, her body, hell, EVERYTHING looked unnatural to me. Her nose was too small, giving her a pinched face, and her eyes were so big they made her look like an anime character. But she was going to help me out of here, and I returned her fake, impersonal smile with a small one of my own.

"Hi, my name is Dolly. Can I help you?" She asked, still smiling but making it more of a smirk as her eyes took in my appearance; little or no make-up, long, dark, greasy hair, worn and out of fashion clothes, tired face. Sneering at me she tapped her long, fluoro pink nails on the desk. The sound of it alone increased my heart rate, a bored and annoyed staff member never inclined to help anyone, even themselves. Crap.

_darra da da da, darra da da da, darra da da da_

_thump thump thump, thump thump thump, thump thump thump_

"I have a flight from here to Seattle." I murmured quietly, clutching at the strap of my shoulder bag as I avoided her gaze. He hated me looking at him, or anyone else for that matter. Especially guys. If he even thought I liked another guy he would hit me, and the guy in question would suddenly need a transfer to a different school. Pretty soon everyone started to avoid me like the plague, but he liked that even better. No witnesses. No one to take my side. And that scared me.

And he liked that too. He said I looked my prettiest when I was frightened. He would tell me that before he hit me, burnt me, cut me. Inflicted any pain that he could think of on me, and the worst thing was that I knew that it was my own fault. I was ugly, and ungrateful, and he was a god. He deserved better, and he told me often. He had chosen me, however, and I should at least be grateful. My mother had warned me against him, told me to stay away. That was before she died, the first year mark tomorrow. The day he started. On days like this one I missed her more than ever, with every fibre in me that wasn't cowering away from him.

"Got any ID?" She asked, her scratchy, high-pitched voice drawing me back to reality, and away from the nightmare that I was trying to escape. _No, the nightmare that I WILL escape_, I think to myself as I pull my wallet out of my shabby bag, containing practically nothing. After so long, I had finally gotten away. When mom died she told me to go to my dad, but he had had other ideas. He being the one who I am running from right now. I shouldn't be so scared though; he will be in no condition to find me.

_I felt like screaming as he pushed me up against the wall, kissing me hungrily. His hands held my arms up above my head, and his body trapped mine, but I didn't try to resist he. If I did, he would punish me. I wasn't that stupid. _

_Then hours later I finally seemed to wake up. I got him a drink, like he asked – more like ordered –, and as I passed the bathroom door on my way back I noticed the cabinet with the swinging mirror door. It had sleeping pills in it, from when his mother lived here. Without thinking I popped two of the pills and, trying to be quick, I ground them up before tipping the powder into the drink. Then I took it to him. He slapped me for taking so long and ordered me away, but as I left I saw him raise the glass to his lips. _

_I returned later, and when I knew he was asleep I grabbed my bag and filled it with my empty wallet, a spare change of clothes and a picture of my mom, my dad and I, happy and together. Long ago. Then I ran out of the house, and began the long walk to the airport. _

After a few agonisingly long minutes that passed like hours she ushered me through the metal detectors, and into the terminal. My plane was leaving in a few minutes, and I relaxed a little. _Just a few minutes to kill_, I thought as I sat on a bench that was pressed up against the wall, _just a few minutes_.

_Even he can't find you here_.

My hand went to my throat, where hanging on a fine golden chain was a gold heart-shaped locket, containing a picture of my mother Renee on one side and a picture of my father Charlie on the other. Renee's wedding ring was inside the locket too, made to fit inside it. All that was missing was my dad's ring now. Then everything precious to me would be held in one little metal heart.

It was dull gold in colour, with small swirls and formed a border around a pale heart, with flowers engraved on it. Right in the centre was a final heart, darker than the other two but not as rich as the gold on the outer one. Somehow he had never seen it; if he had I would never have seen it again. He despised anything that made me happy.

'_Flight A773 to Seattle has been delayed by fifteen minutes. We apologise for any inconvenience._'

I heard the message and the assorted groans that follow it as if in a dream. Everything was quieter, somehow. Deader. Nothing was real, any more. Or, at least, if it was, it was a different sort of real from the one I knew.

I stood from the bench, and I walked a few paces away, ready to cry. How could I get away from this? This was all I knew, and at moments like this, escape seemed impossible. Fruitless. Like I didn't have a chance in hell.

He would come and get me. Laugh in front of the people, hold me close. Maybe even pretend that I was mentally unstable. Make himself the good guy.

Then he'd take me home, and I'd wish that I were dead.

I pick at my nails, the blue polish sending shivers through my spine and causing unpleasant pangs of fear and revulsion. That colour, the electric blue. It made me want to be sick.

I wore a dress that colour on our first date. He told me I was beautiful all night, never once looking away. For the next few dates I'd worn the same colour, eager to please. Then one night I wore green. For some reason it made him angry. Maybe because he thought that I was defying the control that he undeniably held over me.

That was the first time he hit me.

The first boarding call came at last, and I walked unsteadily through the gates and onto the plane. Charlie sent me a ticket every Christmas, but this would be the first time that I'd used any of them. I hoped that he'd be glad to see me; I wouldn't be able to cope with being kicked out of the only home that I had left.

I sat by a window that I gazed vacantly out of as the last stragglers filed onto the plane, dragging their luggage behind them. A large woman dressed completely in plum and green claimed the seat next to me, and as soon as she sat down she began to read what looked like a mystery novel. _Deep Six_. That suited me fine, having no wish to talk to anyone unless I needed to.

As the plane began to move I looked back at the terminal, smiling. I was getting away. After this I would be free. My dad would protect me and I would be safe from him. I smiled as I fingered my locket, but that smile was gone in almost an instant as my eye was drawn to a face in the crowd that was standing by the window. He was there. I felt the colour literally draining from my face, and if I were standing I would have collapsed. Instead I just stared at him as he looked straight back at me, mouthing words to me. And I was afraid.

_Unknown POV_

I shoved through the crowd, even though I had all the time in the world. Violence is good, violence is refreshing. It gets me where I want to be. I shoved a toddler out of my way, and smirked as he began to cry. His mother swept him up into her arms and frowned disapprovingly at me, but I was beyond caring.

That bitch, she thought that she could just get away from me like that. Stupid whore. When I got her back, I was going to make her suffer. Make her scream. And it would all be her own fault.

I could picture it now; her brown eyes, widened in terror, her red lips crying out for help as I punished her. Maybe she'd learn her lesson, not be bad again. But I hoped she wouldn't get the message. That she'd try to get away again.

The game would continue. I enjoyed hurting her so much.

I finally stopped as I reached the window, seeing the plane that was ready for take-off.

As the plane left I knew that she had seen me, her face paling in an instant. I whispered words to her until she was gone from my sight, and then I left. I smiled as my lips tingled with the words that had terrified her, made her weak and vulnerable. I remembered and I laughed.

_I'm coming to get you, Bella_…

X-x-Twilight-x-X

**This is just the beginning. Please review, and give me any constructive criticism that you have. **

**Now I am tired, I can't see straight and it's getting late. I go now. Please review!**

**Love Dawec**


	2. Let Bad Dreams Fade Into The Night

dark rooms dark halls back night why is it all so dark? can't breathe can't see can't scream can't escape

_can't see him why can't i see him it's better when i can what is he doing somebody help help help me somebody_

_HELP_

…

…_his hands…_

…_his face…_

…_his voice…_

…_i'm coming for you, Bella…_

I woke up, barely suppressing a scream, my hand automatically darting to the locket at my throat. As soon as I met him – the real him, the one who I feared – I had stopped wearing it, but all the time I still instinctively reached for it.

I sat up, trying not to hyperventilate, very aware of how sweat-soaked I was. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror across the room – but was it me?

She didn't look like the girl I remembered.

Her hair was dark with a strange mixture of sweat and grease, and matted so badly that the band holding her hair back appeared to have been swallowed by the mass of thick hair.

Her clothes clung to her thin frame, darker in places where her sweat had made them damp. She looked painfully skinny, her skin sallow and unhealthy.

And her eyes. They were big, huge in her too-thin face. And they were terrified.

I pulled my eyes away from the image that was supposedly mine, trying to ignore that horror that had been so plain as my eyes met with that broken girl's in the mirror. Glancing first at the clock, then at the window, then at the clock again, I realised that I had slept through the night, the morning _and _part of the afternoon as well; the sun was coming in through my westwards window.

I moaned, trying to ignore the fuzzy feeling in my mouth that was consistent with a long sleep. Infuriatingly enough, I was also exhausted, which didn't make much sense, but I was anyway. After over sixteen hours sleep, I had thought I would be at least refreshed.

Clearly I had been mistaken. I withheld another groan as I drowsily remembered the occurrences of yesterday that led me here.

I had turned up at Charlie's – my dad – place, a couple of days ago. He was shocked, which I had expected. All way on the flight first to Seattle, and then to Port Angeles, I had prayed desperately to any God or deity that was listening, begging. _Please, please. Don't have Charlie throw me out. _If he said no, I would have literally nowhere to go. A thought that had terrified me immensely.

I had continued my pleas as I hitchhiked my way to Forks – a gesture which, if Charlie knew of it, he might disown me there and then. Perhaps someone was watching over me then, because I managed to avoid all the creeps that teachers always warn you against, when on the subject of hitchhiking.

I know I should have just rung Charlie, asked him to pick me up, but I couldn't. It wasn't through pride, or anything like that, just that I was too afraid that he might refuse, and just leave me there. I knew it was unlikely, probably irrational, me being his only daughter, but I didn't want to have to take that chance.

When I did arrive, I spent a moment just taking in the sight of the little house that I hadn't seen for three years. I must have been a sight, in clothes that I had obviously slept in, hair greasy and unkempt, and just one, badly bashed bag on my shoulder. I stood outside the house for so long, just looking at it, fighting back tears.

It was quite late, the sun in the late stages of setting, and I knew Charlie was home; his cruiser was in the driveway. Something just kept me from walking up to the door, knocking, and seeing a man who had been almost a stranger to me since I was fourteen.

A few hours later, when I was thoroughly chilled and shivering, I ran a hand through my knotty hair, stood a little straighter, and, before I could talk myself out of it, I knocked on Charlie's door.

There were a few agonising seconds when nothing happened, while I was waiting for him to answer, where I was poised to run, in an odd sort of fight or flight response. The hall light flicked on, and the door opened, spilling a golden glow onto me.

I had had to blink, and cover my eyes until I could see again, and by then Charlie had recognised me. Before I could say so much as, 'Hi, Dad!' – I wasn't meant to call him Charlie to his face – he was hugging me. Actually embracing. And he was crying, and I found, to my great surprise, that I was too.

And I had little idea why.

Neither Charlie nor I are particularly emotional people, or at least, we don't share them. Especially not with each other. But, for the first time since Renée had died, I broke down. I had just felt so numb before, and suddenly all the pain that was associated with death, the depression, the emptiness and the deep, heart-felt yearning for someone gone forever, it was all just there.

I thought I was going to implode.

He didn't even ask for any sort of explanation. I only realised then that I'd waited so long outside the house, he was already asleep, and we were both too tired for explanations.

I vaguely remember stumbling up the stairs and into my room, the same room I had had since I was a baby. It hadn't changed much, but I loved it.

I fell into my (surprisingly) made bed, still in my clothes. The last thing I remember as I closed my eyes was holding my locket, and thinking for the first time that everything just might be okay…

Stiff from an awkward night in jeans, I stretched for a moment, before grabbing my bag of toiletries, and heading to where I recalled the bathroom being. When I was fourteen, I had gotten so sick of leaving stuff in Forks, or in Phoenix, so I got two separate (and almost identical) toiletry bags with exactly the same things in them, so I always had a toothbrush and my favourite strawberry shampoo. I sniffed it happily as I stood under the warm spray.

I stood in there for over an hour, trying to wash a weeks worth of grime out of my hair and pores. I got out reluctantly when the hot water started running out, and used the tattered hand towel to wipe condensation off the mirror.

It was shocking how a quick sojourn in hot water had transformed my appearance, so I could actually believe that it was me. I shuddered inwardly as I realised what a shock Charlie must have had, seeing his only daughter like that.

Wrapped in just a fluffy green towel, I headed back into my room to rifle through my wardrobe, probably untouched for all the time I was gone; Charlie would have avoided it, rather than risk coming across some of my underwear.

I was surprised how much of it still looked like it would fit me, even be a little too big! I definitely wanted some new clothes, ones that would fit me after my resolution to put a fair bit more weight on, but what I had already was good enough at the moment.

My heart stuttered and missed a beat as I came across what used to be my favourite shirt to wear in Forks; midnight blue, with black eyelet lace at the collar. I had one just like it, only white, in Phoenix. But that wasn't what suddenly left me hyperventilating, my hand braced against the wall to keep me upright.

It was blue.

I ripped the offending item from its hanger, unceremoniously dumping it on the floor. I stared at it in horror.

How was I meant to explain to people why this colour invoked such a violent reaction in me? I would have to overcome it eventually, but as I shakily lowered myself to the floor, wrapping my arms around my knees, I knew that I couldn't do it. Not today. I balled it up and threw it under my bed; amazingly, I didn't miss. There, I hoped it would lie like other tortured memories, fated to gather dust until I could relive them without tears.

I pulled a random dress off a hanger – pale yellow, and surprisingly warm for such a loose-fitting garment – and slipped it on. I stayed there for what felt like hours, but could have been mere minutes, suppressing my tears. When I felt emotionally stable enough to stand again, I headed straight downstairs, miraculously avoiding a least a concussion with my hurried pace. Once down there, I attempted to occupy myself by getting familiar (again) with some of the furniture.

Everything was the same; the decorations, the pictures of Renée and I on every shelf, the bright yellow cupboards in the kitchen, painted by my mother one rainy afternoon.

I felt my heart ache. _Renée… mom_.

He hadn't let me go to her funeral, did ever let me visit her grave; I never got to say goodbye. That was one thing that I was resolved to do with my new found freedom – at some point, I would go with Charlie to her grave.

She was buried here, in Forks, Charlie unwilling to let her stray far, even in death. I hoped that I would have plenty of time to make several visits, to apologise for doubting her.

She had known all along that it would turn bad.

The muted growl of the cruiser's engine alerted me to Charlie's presence, and, shocked, I looked up at the clock. Was it really that late? Time just seemed to be skipping by, it was so disorientating. I moved into the kitchen, suddenly desiring to have something to do with my hands. To my great chagrin, there was nothing besides rashes of bacon, a dozen eggs and a few cans of beer. I hoped desperately that Charlie had remembered that I was here, and had an idea of how to get dinner. I hadn't eaten all day, or the day before, and by now I was starving.

As I headed out to the hall I frowned, hearing the sound of a second vehicle that I couldn't recognise. Its loud rumble drowned out the cruiser completely, and I peered out the window to see who was driving it. It was a youngish teenage boy with red-brown skin and long, silky black hair. Next to him was a man whose face was line with age, but the cheeks were pulled up into a timeless smile as Charlie got out and waved at them.

I could remember them, or at least the man; Billy Black, one of Charlie's friends from La Push. I assumed that the boy was his son, Jacob, but I wasn't sure – I hadn't seen either of them in so long. Just the sight of them in their big, battered red truck made me break out into a grin, as I began to race for the door.

But something stopped me short. How could I be so stupid as to forget?

The dress I wore was floor length, but sleeveless. And the large, painful marks on my arms were plainly visible, in all their glory. Ranging from green to a deep purple, they made me look like a paint pallet. The most prominent ones were located on my upper arm, five ovals. Obviously marks where someone had grabbed and held me hard enough to bruise.

I leapt up the stairs two at a time, fearful that any one of the men gathered outside would come in before I had covered up. I searched wildly through my drawers, dumping half the contents on the floor, before pulling on a grey knitted jacket. I felt a little warm afterwards, but that couldn't be prevented; under no circumstances could Charlie find out.

Plastering a smile that I hoped looked realistic on my face, I headed downstairs again. Internally I was screaming. Would they see through my ruse? Thankfully, none of them knew me too well, hadn't seen me in years.

But I knew I wouldn't be able to hide forever. At some point I would have to come clean.

_Just please, _I prayed silently as the voices from outside drew close, _please, not tonight. _

_Please. _

X-x-Anywhere-x-But-x-Home-x-X

**Um… please don't kill me?**

**I can't actually give an explanation as to why I am finally updating five months after the first chapter, but know this;**

**I wrote at least five drafts before this one, discarding each one because I thought it wasn't good enough. Then I did this, all in one day (or maybe too) and I thought, "To hell will indecision, I'll post this!"… so… yeah. **

**Please, if you notice any errors or have any criticism to give me, do not hesitate to review, or PM me if you have any questions (I am assuming that some people are still reading this). **

**I've replied to all the reviews, but thankyou to Callie and Grace (two anonymous reviewers). In fact, thankyou to ALL who reviewed :)**

**I hope to update again soon. **

Dawec

**P.S. And yeah, you may have noticed, this has been unBETA'd (that didn't make much sense… oops). I just wanted to post it before I could give up on it again. **


	3. Old Friends, New Fears

_I could remember them, or at least the man; Billy Black, one of Charlie's friends from La Push. I assumed that the boy was his son, Jacob, but I wasn't sure – I hadn't seen either of them in so long. Just the sight of them in their big, battered red truck made me break out into a grin, as I began to race for the door. _

_But something stopped me short. How could I be so stupid as to forget?_

The dress I wore was floor length, but sleeveless. And the large, painful marks on my arms were plainly visible, in all their glory.

_I leapt up the stairs two at a time, fearful that any one of the men gathered outside would come in before I had covered up. I searched wildly through my drawers, dumping half the contents on the floor, before pulling on a grey knitted jacket. I felt a little warm afterwards, but that couldn't be prevented; under no circumstances could Charlie find out. _

_Plastering a smile that I hoped looked realistic on my face, I headed downstairs again. _

_But I knew I wouldn't be able to hide forever. At some point I would have to come clean. _

Just please_, I prayed silently as the voices from outside drew close, _please, not tonight.

Please.

X-x-Anywhere-x-But-x-Home-x-X

I flinched as the door opened, but no one was looking my way. Charlie and Jacob were too focused on carefully manoeuvring wheelchair-bound Billy up the porch steps. Charlie was positioned near the door, so I could only assume that it was he who had opened it, and I pushed it back further before leaning my weight against it, to make the entrance as wide as possible.

"Bella!" smiled Billy as soon as the chair had been safely moved into the threshold and the door shut. I felt my cheek relaxing in response, the corners of my mouth curling up naturally. Billy had this magical quality, one that made it impossible to not be happy. Even for me.

"Hi, Billy, Charlie. Jacob." I looked at each of them in turn, letting my gaze rest upon the broadly beaming Jacob for longest; it seemed he had inherited the same captivating grin as his father. They had the same skin, too, but Jacob's long, silky hair was still dark, and not peppered with strands of grey like Billy's.

He was tall too, so that – even though I was at least two, if not three years older than him – I had to look up slightly. He still had the softness of youth in his face and his limbs, but I could already see where his arms were hardening into iron-hard muscle.

The atmosphere between us was not too comfortable, however. Jacob was smiling so hard that his cheeks must have been aching, and yet I could recognise the longing look in his eyes, when he looked at me. He was interested.

How was I meant to let him down without hurting him, and yet not exposing myself?

I heard Charlie's frown in his voice, mimicking the one on his forehead. "Bells, is the heater not working?" I looked at his quizzically, silently freaking out for a moment, before remembering my jacket. Ah, of course. He had no idea. _Thank God_.

I felt my tongue stumble over the words of my excuse. "No, no, I'm s-sure that it's working fine, I just-just, I wasn't sure… _how_ to work it." I met his eyes steadily, knowing all too well how he, a trained police officer, might still see the lie. Might demand the truth.

And then my world, this _falsity_ I was required to maintain, it would come crashing down.

All three men looked at me incredulously as I blushed, hard. Of course, Charlie had the simplest heating system known to man. It would be almost impossible to not understand it.

"We didn't need one in Jacksonville," I offered, aware that it sounded more like a question that a satisfactory response. It was sufficient, however, because after a few more dumbstruck looks, Charlie steered Billy towards the sitting room, and the ball game I assumed waited for him there.

I moved to the kitchen, conscious that Jacob was still watching me, and I was determined not to meet his eyes. Instead, I busied myself pulling the first thing I saw out of the fridge

Of course, I had forgotten my father's meagre supply of food. All that was there was the bacon, eggs and beer from earlier. I shut the door, than reopened it, as if something would magically appear. Nope, nothing.

Sighing, I closed the door, and rested my head against it. After a few seconds, I started banging my forehead against it, not gently. _Perfect. After narrowly avoiding death in Phoenix, I am going to starve to death in Forks. Great. _

A warm barrier stopped my abuse of the refrigerator, and I gazed up blearily at Jacob. Oops, I'd forgotten he was watching.

I stared into his sunny, black eyes. "Low on dinner options, huh?" He smiled, and I immediately relaxed, my shoulders losing any trace of tension. I grinned involuntarily. "How did you guess?"

He just beamed at me in response, and pulled his other hand from behind his back. I hadn't even noticed he was concealing something, but as he dropped the grease-stained bag onto the counter, I hugged him.

"Jake, you are a lifesaver!" I laughed. I felt his arms snake around my waist, and I realised what I had forgotten; he liked me.

A complication I _definitely _did not need.

Although I wanted, so badly, just to be able to lose myself in our embrace, I knew I couldn't. It wouldn't be fair for him. It wasn't his fault that he liked me, or that I didn't share mutual feelings.

It wasn't his fault that I was broken, smashed beyond repair. There was no way he would be able to find the shattered parts of me, or piece me back together.

I pulled away, unwilling, but determined to not let it show; I would not lead Jake on. I couldn't – wouldn't – be that cruel.

For a second, I could see the hurt on his face. I winced internally, but I kept my face carefully blank. It wouldn't do to let him think that he had a chance.

After that moment of weakness, his face was just like mine; empty. We sat down – me avoiding his gaze the whole time – and he toss a warm package at me. I ducked my head, rather than thanking him, and picked at the insides of my burger as he scoffed his down. I took Charlie and Billy one, before returning to the kitchen.

I was torn; either I could go upstairs, earning Charlie's disappointment, and hurting Jacob right now, or I could stick around, and risk those both later. But if I left now, I would avoid any painful questions about… well, anything.

I wanted so badly to be able to trust Jacob, and to trust myself around him. Even though I could barely remember him, it had just felt so… right, hugging him. Being close to him. Calling him Jake, and treating him like a brother.

But I didn't believe for a second that he saw me just as a sister.

My mind raced almost as fast as my pulse as Jacob finished the last of his burger. I couldn't claim homework to get away – I didn't think Charlie had had a chance to enrol me in the school yet. I could play the 'sudden nausea' card, but Charlie would, of course, insist upon checking me at regular intervals to make sure I was okay. Besides that obvious annoyance, I loathed the idea of causing him any unnecessary concern.

What about tiredness? Charlie might be a bit suspect of that one, since I had slept for so long since my arrival, but it wouldn't be completely a lie. I _was_ tired; my sleep had been constantly interrupted all night.

But I didn't want to sleep. I was too scared that those fears that plagued the darkness every time I closed my eyes would sweep down, and consume me.

While he still had his mouth full, I jumped to my feet. "Bye Jacob," I said, then faked a yawn. "I'm sorry, I'm just still really tired."

I flew out of the room, hoping that I had imagined those noises of protest. I hoped he didn't attempt to pursue me; though I was certain – almost – that the gentleman in him would baulk at entering my room without my express permission, I would still probably be fair game before I crossed the threshold of my room.

_Fair game_. My steps faltered, and I tripped, sprawling awkwardly at the foot of the stairs.

"Bella!" I groaned inwardly as I saw Jacob heading towards me at a run, obviously having seen my fall. I felt my forehead crease in confusion as he stopped, his eyes wide, staring at my legs. I felt the beginning of a blush work its way up my neck, before it hit me.

In the mirror hung on the wall opposite me, I saw the colour draining from my face. My eyes went almost comically wide. I heard roaring in my ears, and felt somewhat faint.

The skirt of my dress was pulled up to mid-thigh, exposing most of both my legs. I knew that Jacob could see them as well as me, the myriad of bright colours emblazoned onto the creamy white of my skin.

A second later I came to my senses, and scrambled to my feet, straightening to cover me completely once more. Jacob seemed to still be caught in a trance, his face frozen in shock, and what I thought was dawning horror.

"I have to go," I mumbled, and ran up the stairs. This seemed to bring him back to life. He caught my wrist just before I reached the safety of my room.

"Bella", he said, and swallowed. "How did you get those… those bruises?" His voice was muted, probably so Charlie and Billy wouldn't hear.

I tried to reclaim my arm, attempting to laugh it off. "Oh, you know me. I fell down some stairs in Phoenix." Could he hear the hint of hysteria in my voice?

He shook his head, his eyes never leaving mine. I was struck by how you he looked in that moment, transformed by the horror in his eyes. "I know bruises, Bella," he whispered, his voice rough. "Some of those are days, _weeks_ old."

"Well, I fall down a lot," I replied, looking at my feet, my voice small to my own ears. If I were him wouldn't have believed me. It was blatantly obvious he didn't, and wasn't about to drop it, either.

He gripped my shoulders, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Did someone hurt you? In Phoenix?" His voice got louder, with what sounded like anger, and a shushed him as best I could, glancing fearfully at the stairs. If Charlie or Billy heard, there would be no concealing it. If Charlie came upstairs now, I had no doubts that Jacob would tell them.

I had this tiny, brief window of opportunity to convince him to let this go. To persuade him that this would be better for everyone in the long run.

"Please, Jake," I whispered, barely audible. "Just… don't." I could feel tears shining in my eyes. If I remembered correctly, Jacob was a sweet guy, but stubborn. He would almost always do what he thought was best. I was the only one who had ever been able to change him mind when we were kids. I hoped that this strange power had continued into our adolescence.

He spent longs seconds staring into my eyes, his face devastatingly torn. He looked a strange cross between child-like, with fear of consequences, and like a fully grown man, with responsibility and guilt weighing him down. _I am so sorry, Jacob_, I thought. _I never wanted you to know_.

"Leave it alone," I pleaded, never breaking eye-contact. It made him squirm, and I sensed that he was close to breaking. "Please. I'm not in Phoenix anymore. I just want to _let it go_." I heard my voice break on the last three words, and to my chagrin, I felt hot tears rolling down my cheeks.

My obvious distress won him over. He released my shoulders, backing away, down the stairs. "Thankyou," I whispered. He just shook his head, backing away from me as fast as he could, down the stairs again, silent all the way.

_Even here, even he can sense that I'm poisonous_, I thought unhappily. I didn't let this slow me down as I went into my room, and closed the door all the way.

I sat on the bed, freezing even beneath my layers. I hugged my knees close to my body, very aware of how wide my eyes were. I was vaguely aware of the faint rumble of Charlie's cruiser, and I was slightly surprised that I didn't hear the Black's monster of a truck starting up. Apart from that, I stayed distant.

I was freezing, and then I was burning from the inside. Again, and again. Cold, then heat. Ice, then fire. Blue, then red.

I returned to myself after Charlie looked in on me one last time, and I heard him to go bed. I lay down, pulling my legs even closers to my chest, dragging breath in through clenched teeth, my body shaking with sobs.

At that moment, all that was important to me was lying there, breathing, and trying to forget. I would have to come up with an excuse, just in case someone else did see my bruises. My clumsiness might be adequate, once some of them got to know me, but I would take precautions to conceal the contusions as best I could.

_School_. Still embroiled in my stupor, I shuddered. The thought of other people both sickened me filled me with hope. And, of course, the ever-present fear. I hadn't interacted with other people for _so long_. I though wistfully of the days of happiness, when I was surrounded by my friends. Even girls as shy as I am have friends at some point, but I lost all mine when he came into the picture.

Or, at least, they were curiously discouraged from any interaction with me beyond what he deemed necessary.

I pulled the quilt over myself, hoping desperately that for a night, just one night, I would be able to forget, to sleep dreamlessly.

Ha. Not a chance.

X-x-Twilight-x-X

**Yeah. By the way, I've changed my pen name to SheWhoADORESCookies, 'cos I like it better. Besides, having a plural pen name was just… weird. **

**Well. I think this chapter is a little longer than usual, and I think it took a little longer than usual too, for which I can only apologise. I think, however, that I am **_**quite**_** satisfied with this, and I hope you enjoy it too. **

**Heads up; there's a poll on my profile, which I would quite like if you took the time to take. **

**And if you'd like an excuse? I was in Greece. So there. Very little typing went on. **

**Hoping to update again soon;**

SheWhoADORESCookies (especially with cookies and cream icecream!) 


	4. Not A Chapter

Hi everyone,

I am so sorry for doing this, but I just don't think I can write for fanfiction anymore.

So many things have gotten in the way (like life), but there was two more specific reason; I got over _Twilight_, and I entered my novel into a competition.

Even though I didn't win this competition, I was shortlisted. And I _loved_ writing that story. At one point, I typed straight for fourteen hours, and it felt amazing. I never really had that sort of motivation for any of my fanfic stories, and I think it was because I loved my characters, and it was so hard to go back to other characters that were practically strangers to me. Even if I adapted these characters so I could write with them, we all know how quickly I'd get attacked for being too OOC.

I have had such an amazing time being a writer for this community. I'd just like to thank everyone who read, reviewed, and especially PM'd me.

If anyone would particularly like to take on either of my stories, feel free to PM me, but otherwise, don't really expect an update.

Thanks, (and you may all have that cookie now)

DAWEC


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